


Love Song for a Vampire

by bellacatbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Boarding School, Consensual Underage Sex, First Time, Frottage, Gardener Dean, Historical Inaccuracy, Innocent Castiel, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Poetic Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, Teenage Castiel, Twink Castiel, Underage Castiel, Vampire Bites, Vampire Dean, Vampire Dean Winchester, Vampire Turning, Virgin Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 19:26:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2320646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is bored and lonely, left at boarding school over the summer by his diplomat father.  </p>
<p>His one companion is the new gardener, Dean; a man slightly older than Castiel, who only works at night. </p>
<p>Castiel is infatuated with Dean, but he never expects those feelings to be returned, nor does he expect that Dean wants more from him than a few stolen moments of pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Song for a Vampire

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to Bianka, who is the sweetest queen of cute boys in panties. I tried to write you something smutty about twink!Cas and then this got away from me. 
> 
> Slightly inspired by an episode of Endeavour about a haunted girls boarding school. Title is taken from an Annie Lennox song of the same name. 
> 
> Castiel is seventeen in this story.

The school was haunted. 

At least, that’s what the rumors said. Haunted wasn’t really the word. There was no ghost. There was, however, a mausoleum on the edge of the grounds. 

Before the old house was converted into a school, it had been the ancestral home of the Winchesters. It had been sold when their last heir died young, and been bought by a developer who, in turn, sold it on to Crowley, an enterprising man who re-imagined the large country estate as a private boarding school for the sons of the rich. 

And then, once the school was opened and the boys arrived, the rumors started. 

It was said that the last heir walked, that he rose from his grave and stalked the corridors of his old home, searching for victims. Not a ghost, but something still made of flesh and bone. Something that craved blood. 

Boys who left their windows open at night became pale and wane, complained of bites to their necks and thighs, complained of dreams about a handsome young man who kissed them and begged them for more than their blood. 

The school vacated over summer, boys returning back to their families, and only those with relatives who found them inconvenient stayed on. 

Castiel was one of those who stayed behind. His father was a diplomat and Castiel had been boarding since he was seven. That left his father able to dash off to the far corners of the world at a drop of a hat, without the inconvenience of a young son at his side. 

Castiel, now at seventeen, was too old to believe in vampires. How, he asked, did the last heir, become a vampire?

No one could answer that. That was the problem with the rumor. It was insubstantial. There was no fact to it, nothing that could be proved with logical reasoning, and without fact, Castiel found it impossible to believe what could just as easily be mass hysteria. 

Castiel was the oldest boy to stay behind. The others were too young for him to spend his time with, still in knee length shorts, and Castiel felt like a nursery maid when he ate his meals with them and tried to remind them to brush their teeth before bed time. 

He spent most of his time reading in the library or strolling in the grounds. The school had hired a new gardener, and Castiel saw him often as the sun began setting, digging up the flower beds and mowing the law. He was a handsome young man, not older than twenty, with a freckled face and bright green eyes. 

Castiel often asked him why he worked at night, and the man would tap his nose, smile, and say that that was his little secret. 

Castiel was used to gardeners behaving that way. They all had secrets for their fabulous roses or beautiful tamed lawns. 

Dean, the new gardener, obviously felt that any work before dusk spoiled the plants. 

Castiel found himself staying out later and later, watching Dean work, talking to him. Dean was handsome and he always told Castiel how much he enjoyed his company. Dean was a distraction from the boredom of being alone, of being isolated. Castiel never felt lonely when he was with Dean.

Dean was kind too, bringing him fresh flowers and beautiful blooms from the garden. One night, he had a red rose to tuck behind Castiel’s ear.

“It’s only a bud,” he said, fingers stroking Castiel’s cheek gently as he drew his hand away. “But when I saw it, I knew I had to cut it for you.” 

Castiel felt a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach. Other boys indulged in romances within the school walls. They shared beds after lights out, shared intimacies that Castiel had never felt secure enough in sharing with anyone. Now though, he wanted to share himself with Dean. 

He put the rose bud in a glass of water by his bedside and looked at it until he fell asleep. 

He dreamed of Dean in the night, begging to stay with him. He dreamed that Dean held him, that he kissed him. It was a romantic fancy, an infatuation that could never go anywhere, but Castiel allowed himself to indulge in it. 

Dean had awoken up a part of him that had been dormant, a part of him that longed for passion and to be adored. It had been a part of him Castiel had thought might be missing completely until Dean had appeared in his life. 

**

“You should come with me to the mausoleum,” Dean said one day.

“Why?” Castiel asked. 

He knew some the boys went there as a dare, a right of passage, but he had never been that sort of boy. He had no interest in visiting the bones of the dead and gone Winchesters. 

The sun had vanished and it was cold outside now. Even in the middle of summer, it was cold at the school. Castiel shivered involuntarily.

“I want to show you something,” Dean said. 

Castiel tilted his head. Dean was not normally this evasive. Whatever he had to show Castiel, it could not be a rare species of plant or a flower he had cultivated and grown in secret. Dean would have bragged about those. This was something different, something Dean was nervous about. 

Maybe, Castiel thought, a thrill of pleasure running through him, Dean wanted him away from the school so he could kiss him without fear of someone peering through the windows seeing them. He was not convinced Dean felt a romantic interest towards him, but he still hoped that he might. The mausoleum was a suitably private and somber place for a forbidden tryst. 

“Will you come?” Dean asked nervously, holding out his hand.

Castiel took it, allowing himself to feel excited as Dean’s fingers closed around his own. 

**

Castiel knew the vague direction of the mausoleum, but Dean seemed to know it by heart. He led them determinedly through the grass which had been allowed to grow long, through the shadows of the trees that had sprung up in the fertile ground, to the old stone mausoleum that housed the bodies of the Winchesters.

He pushed open the old, slightly rotten, wooden doors and helped Castiel down the stone steps. 

Castiel knew a little of the Winchesters. They had been an old family, a family who had survived the reformation, but who had succumbed to illness and tragedy. A fire had killed the last lady of the house and her youngest child. Her husband had died on the battlefield, and their heir had wasted away by himself in their fine house. 

He didn’t know their names, he only knew their fates. The macabre nature of their lives and deaths were fascinating to the young men up at the school. 

He shivered again, his eyes moving quickly from one tomb to the next.

“Why are we here, Dean?” he asked.

Dean motioned him forward, towards one of the tombs. 

“I wanted to show you this,” he whispered with care, reaching to wipe the dust from the brass name plate that sat affixed to the tomb. “I wanted to show you my grave.”

Castiel was about to laugh, or maybe to scold Dean for playing a trick on him, but then he looked down at the name and his voice caught in his throat.

‘ _Dean Winchester_ ’ it read and Castiel could hardly breath. 

“This isn’t very funny,” he said.

“It isn’t meant to be funny,” Dean said seriously. “I’ve been looking...searching...I’ve been so lonely, Cas. Everyone’s gone and I’m cursed with immortality. They killed my brother and mother in the fire, they cut my father’s head off in the war. I’ve been so alone, so I sold the house and I waited.”

“You’re lying,” Castiel said, but there was no fire in his voice. He suspected that Dean was not lying at all. In fact, he suspected that Dean was completely truthful.

“I was disappointed when I found out it was going to be a boys school, but I still searched for one of you to join me. I tried the boys who left their windows open, but none of them were right. Then you sought me out, Cas. You saw me and came to talk to me. None of the others ever did that.”

Castiel didn’t say a word. 

“I want you to stay with me, Cas. I want to offer you immortality. I know you want me, I know you dream about me. I feel the way your blood pumps quicker when we’re together, I see the color in your cheeks. I want you too, Cas. I want you forever.”

Castiel looked at Dean, really looked at him. He saw the paleness under his freckles, the ethereal glow to his green eyes, the long white sharpness of his teeth. He had dismissed the rumors as preposterous, but now the vampire was standing before him, offering him an eternity together.

“I’m lonely,” Castiel said simply, and he _was_ lonely. 

He didn’t feel as if he belonged. He didn’t belong in the school and he didn’t belong at home. He was unwanted, difficult, a problem rather than something welcomed with open arms. 

“I would never let you be lonely,” Dean said. “We would always be together.” 

Castiel thought about an eternity with Dean, an eternity in which he would be loved and wanted. 

It made his choice an easy one. 

Dean laid him out across the length of his tomb. His kisses were hot while the rest of him was cold. He trailed his fangs down the side of Castiel’s neck and bit him gently. Everything about Dean was gentle. There was no violence, no viciousness to his actions. He had been lonely too, the last one of his family, hunting for someone to love. 

He undressed Castiel and kissed him all over, letting a little blood from his thighs, from his nipples, leaving his mark across the pale expanse of Castiel’s skin. 

In the mausoleum, they made love. 

Castiel was an innocent, uncertain and unaware, so Dean guided him. He moved them together, rocking his hips against Castiel’s, whispering him promises of the places they’d see together, the adventures they’d have. Castiel clung to him, gasping Dean’s name. His body thrummed with pleasure, the sort of pleasure Castiel had never allowed himself to think about before Dean. 

His cock twitched and jerked, rubbing hot and heavy against Dean’s bigger one. Dean took them both in hand, stroking them slowly until it became too much for Castiel. 

Dean bought Castiel to completion and then he opened a vein and let Castiel drink. 

His bloody was rich, musky, aged as was Dean. Castiel sucked until his mouth was stained red. 

He felt the change hit him, felt the moment when he slipped from humanity into something else. He lay in Dean’s arms, lapping at the last remaining drops of blood and smiling up at the man who had made him.

For the first time in his life, he felt as if he belonged.

**

**Epilogue**

It was a terrible scandal, Castiel running off with the gardener. 

Some of the boys said he hadn’t really run away. They said the gardener had murdered him and dumped his body in the mausoleum, but the police searched there. 

They found blood - both Castiel’s blood and that of a second, unknown party, but they found no fresh bodies. Indeed, upon opening one of the tombs, they found no bones there either. That only fueled speculation in some quarters. 

Other boys said Castiel had run off with the vampire. They said he was the one the vampire had been looking for. 

The school couldn’t survive the scandal. Rich families did not want to send their sons to a place where they could be corrupted or murdered. 

Crowley sold up, realizing there was no money left in it, and a distant relative of the Winchester family bought it - an American by the name of Dean Winchester, who, along with him his beautiful young husband, had a hankering to live in the English countryside of his ancestry.


End file.
